


Midwinter

by Closer



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Clothing Kink, M/M, Stripping, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-07
Updated: 2011-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-24 09:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Closer/pseuds/Closer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey's traditional post-triumphal sex takes on a twist when it's Mike, decked out in winter gear and just begging to be stripped down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midwinter

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Suits meme: Anon is ready for winter to bring on the snow and peacoats and beanie hats and such. Pearson Hardmen go ice-skating in Central Park. Dress is casual. So, obviously Harvey wears a suit without the tie. Mike, however, layers up in cotton and flannel and denim and leather. They booze. They skate. They go home, and Mike makes Harvey work for it.
> 
> Disclaimer: I know nothing about the Central Park rink. I'm going off rinks I've been to in the past. Roll with it, it'll be fun.

"You look," Harvey said, "like some kind of REI ad."

Mike suspected that Harvey was just jealous he couldn't get away with wearing jeans to a Pearson Hardman function.

And who were they kidding, probably he could have; Harvey Specter in jeans would knock half the women and some of the men of Pearson Hardman on their collective Harvard-graduated asses.

Most of the firm seemed to have grumbled about going on a firm-sponsored field trip to Central Park for holiday ice skating, and Harvey was no exception. Mike couldn't understand why; it was the best day he'd spent at Pearson Hardman since he started. Ice skating was fun, and Harvey was a dick for calling him an REI ad. He was also a stick in the mud for not skating, making him a dick in the mud, something Mike would probably actually say aloud after one more mug of spiked hot chocolate.

Winter was awesome. Mike got to wear all his favorite clothing: fleece-lined jeans and a soft cotton henley and a flannel shirt and a thermal sweater and a new leather jacket and a scarf Gram had given him and a hat he'd stolen from Trevor years ago, fingerless gloves with little flaps that folded forward to cover his fingers, extra thick socks...there was nothing Mike did not love about winter clothes.

Harvey, on the other hand...

It wasn't that he didn't look good. He did. He just didn't look...especially wintry. His concession to "casual dress" was, apparently, not wearing a tie. Instead he had a thick, plum-colored merino scarf wrapped around his throat and tucked into what was admittedly a gorgeous black wool coat, a coat Mike wanted to dig his fingers into. But under that he was wearing one of his usual suits, and even his snow boots were hand-tooled Italian leather. He was like Harvey Specter, The Slightly Chilly Edition.

"I might look like an ad for camping gear, but you look like Scrooge," Mike informed him, skidding up to the wall where Harvey was leaning, sipping a hot, amber-colored drink. "Why aren't you skating?"

"Because I'm not here to skate," Harvey replied.

"I'm pretty sure the email memo said we're here to skate."

"You are. I have other things to do."

"Like what?" Mike asked, dodging up against the wall as Kyle flew past. "Motherfu -- what a tool! Does he think he's some kind of speed skater?"

Harvey was grinning. "That's what you get for being a speedbump."

"I can go," Mike said loftily. "I bet you just can't skate."

"You're impugning my manhood over ice skating?" Harvey asked. "I'll show you my junior high hockey photos sometime."

"Oh man, you were a hockey jock?" Mike asked.

"In junior high. Nobody's a jock in junior high." Harvey sipped his drink. "Go body-check Kyle or something. I have work to do."

"What work?" Mike asked, following him along the wall as he circled the rink.

"Shoo," Harvey gestured with one gloved hand.

"Harveyyyy..."

Harvey sighed, stopping again. Mike stopped too, beaming.

"Remember when you were a little kid and you went to a pool party, and you couldn't figure out why the grownups weren't in there playing with you?" Harvey asked. Mike nodded. "The grownups were busy poolside landing multimillion dollar clients for the firm. _Go away_ if you came here to skate, so I can impress people who came here to do business without a four-year-old tagging along."

"Oooh," Mike mocked, as he skated back from the wall. "If your spirit go not forth in life, Harvey, it is condemned to do so after death!"

"Darkness is cheap, and I like it!" Harvey called back.

Mike skated away to show off for Rachel and Donna, but he kept one eye on Harvey as the older man leaned against the rink wall, chatting with men and women in likewise dark woolen coats and expensive snow boots, tailored clothing, winter scarves instead of ties. Sometimes Harvey got the raw end of the deal, he thought.

"Stop fretting, your face is going to freeze that way," Donna said, gliding up to him serenely.

"Is it that he can't skate, or that he won't skate?" Mike asked, ducking under her arm and securing his own around her waist so that they could move together. Donna gave him a sidelong look that said _don't get ideas._

"It's an unending mystery," she said. "He says he can. Did he threaten to show you the hockey photos?"

"Have you seen them?"

"Harvey knows better than to give me that kind of blackmail material. Swing me," she added, and Mike dug in a toe and swung her around in a circle, just in time for her to totally clothesline Kyle, who fell on his ass. They moved smoothly onwards as Donna called, "Sorry, Kurt!" over her shoulder.

"See, it's funny because his name's Kyle," she confided to Mike.

"You are my queen," Mike informed her.

"I know. Anyway, Harvey always has some excuse not to skate. Usually a good one, like David Teg."

"Is that who he's talking to?" Mike craned his neck.

"He's a chocolate magnate."

"A what now?"

"He owns Balfour Chocolate," Donna said. "Ever eat a Caramelt bar?"

"Sure."

"Then you helped put his kids through college. He's in the market for a new firm. Now let me go, I'm going to do a double-axel."

Mike loosened his grip and slowed down, giving her space to push off. He was just trying to decide whether to do another lap or get some more hot chocolate, which would probably take him off the ice for good, when he heard Harvey whistle sharply. He was gesturing to Mike to join them, so Mike dodged a spirited attempt by Kyle to body-check him and skated over.

"David Teg, my associate, Mike Ross," Harvey said, when Mike approached, pulling off his hat. "Mike, this is -- "

"Mr. Teg, of Balfour Chocolates," Mike said, leaning on the wall. Bless Donna. "Love your Caramelt bars, sir."

"Well, the classics never falter," Teg said, smiling. "Harvey tells me you'll be handling the paperwork for the changeover."

Harvey was looking smug. "Mr. Teg is moving his business interests to Pearson Hardman."

"Pleased to have you, sir," Mike replied.

"I thought I should meet the young man helping me move," Teg continued. "Come have a drink with us. We'll talk."

When he got off the ice, Mike found them seated at one of the little tables ringing the outdoor bar near the rink; there was already a steaming cup in front of the empty chair at the table, so he settled in, skates still on, sipping appreciatively. Harvey, he saw, had changed his hot cider for a cup of chocolate as well.

The conversation was mostly small talk, or what passed for small talk between a lawyer and his client. Mike spoke when spoken to and otherwise kept quiet, nursing his drink, noticing the little Balfour logo on the cup. He wondered how much of Harvey's business had been him wooing Teg, and how much Teg had been wooing Harvey. It wasn't unheard of; one of Mike's jobs was to profile prospective clients who'd asked for Harvey's services and turn down the ones Harvey, for whatever reason, chose not to take. There were a remarkable number of people who wanted Harvey Specter as their lawyer.

Eventually, Teg drained the last of his drink. "Well. This has been very productive, I think, but I promised my granddaughter I'd be home to tuck her in. Mike, my assistant will be in touch on Monday with the details of the handover."

"We'll try to make it as painless as possible," Mike said.

"For me? Excellent. But frankly, these guys screwed me out of a couple of lucrative deals. You feel free to make it as painful for my _ex_ -law firm as you like."

"Easily done," Harvey said. "We'll enjoy that, won't we, Mike?"

"Good. Very nice to meet you both," Teg said. When he was gone, Harvey leaned back and stretched.

"And that's why I didn't go skating," he said to Mike.

"Yes, you're very impressive and your work ethic is admirable," Mike said, with a roll of his eyes. "So what's stopping you now?"

"Is that a challenge, Rookie?"

"Is that what it takes to get you in some skates?" Mike asked.

Harvey glanced around -- not covertly or suspiciously, very naturally, but Mike caught it and followed it. Most of the Pearson Hardman staff had gone home, and the few stragglers were, like them, at the bar. The only people on the ice were strangers.

"Race you," Harvey said. "You beat me, you can be permanent point-man for Balfour Chocolate."

"Are you sure that's fair?" Mike asked.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying -- " Mike said, but Harvey was already headed for the skate rental booth. By the time Mike caught up, hobbling on his skates, Harvey was lacing them on. "Oh God, I've hit the Competitive Harvey button."

Harvey stood up, bouncing a little to check the tightness of the laces. "There is no off switch for that."

"I'm getting that," Mike sighed, following him to the gap in the rink wall. "So who's on the inside, or do we do it roller-derby style?"

Harvey pointed at the far end of the rink. "Straight across."

"There are people there!"

"Hazards," Harvey said with a shrug. "Worried?"

"No," Mike replied. "What do you get if you win?"

"Am I going to?" Harvey asked, amused.

"No."

"Then what does it matter?"

"You have to stop making bets where only one person puts up stakes!"

"Come on, Rook, money where your mouth is," Harvey said, stepping onto the ice. He looked completely steady on his feet. Mike followed, backing up against the wall when Harvey did. "Ready?" Mike nodded. "Go!"

He kept up for a good two-thirds of the race, dodging angry skaters and swerving to the side of Harvey, trying to get ahead. Harvey, single-minded, definitely could skate, something Mike would confirm for Donna on Monday.

He didn't ever quite manage to lead, but he was sure he was about to when Harvey put on a sudden burst of speed, slid ahead by a couple of feet, then increased the distance while Mike struggled to catch him. About ten feet from the wall, he turned effortlessly and slid backwards, grinning in satisfaction at Mike, practically a _taunt_.

"Should have made me name my sta -- oof!" Harvey grunted as Mike, trying to brake (though not very hard) and failing, slammed into him, driving them both into the wall. Harvey's arms went up automatically to catch him, and Mike laughed into his stupid expensive scarf.

"Should have worn more layers for padding," Mike said, starting to move back and slipping. Harvey held onto him, shifting his balance, and then just...kept holding.

"Is that so?" Harvey asked. Mike tilted his head a little, looking up, trying to straighten. His thighs were stuck in the spread-v of Harvey's legs. He could feel Harvey's hands, thick in their leather gloves, one propped on the small of his back, the other just above it.

"If you rent me out to Louis I swear to God I'll stab you both," he said. Harvey chuckled.

"Not what I had in mind," he murmured, and tugged Mike up against his body before letting him go, probably just to help Mike get upright on the skates.

Probably.

Harvey slid out from between Mike and the wall deftly, turning to skate backwards again but much slower this time, drifting back to the gap in the wall.

"So?" Mike asked, skating forward, keeping less distance between them than there'd been at the end of the race. "Proofing all weekend? Bring you coffee for a week?"

"You do that anyway," Harvey pointed out.

"You're not going to make me buy you dinner somewhere, are you?" Mike asked. "Wait, no. You're going to make me wear a vest for a month."

"Maybe next time," Harvey said.

"Next time!"

"You think this is the last dumb bet you're going to make?" Harvey asked, effortlessly dodging backwards around a woman Mike didn't even think he had seen coming.

"I never make the same mistake twice," Mike said.

"Interesting theory. Unfortunately," Harvey replied, "you seem to have imagination enough for an endless supply of new mistakes."

"Nice backhand, there," Mike said.

"Credit where it's due, you don't lack imagination," Harvey allowed, turning to move gracefully from the ice to the rubberized matting outside the rink. Mike stumbled less gracefully after him, and went to get his boots from the locker where he'd left them. Harvey had left his under a bench, and was already changed by the time Mike sat down to unlace his skates. He watched as Harvey effortlessly struck up a conversation with a woman standing at the edge of the rink. By the time he was out of his skates, Harvey had her laughing and flipping her hair at him. The man was unbelievable.

He considered just shouldering his skates and slinking away, but Harvey glanced up, saw him standing there, and gave the woman a nod, walking away.

"You want me to let you get back to it?" Mike asked with a raised eyebrow.

Harvey glanced at the woman, who was studiously not watching them. "She has an eight-year-old daughter out on the ice."

"So?"

"Three rules to follow for a serene sex life," Harvey said, starting to walk -- so Mike followed, because that was what he did. "Don't date married people, because it's never not a mess. Don't date people with kids, because that's mean to the kids -- "

"We're not really talking about dating here though, right?" Mike asked. "We're talking about sex. Dating someone with a kid is only mean to the kid if you know you have no intention of sticking around. Sleeping with someone with a kid just means you should chip in for the babysitter."

Harvey glanced sidelong at him. "Someone might almost think you were a lawyer with a terminology subclause like that."

"So what's rule number three?"

"Don't dip your pen in the company ink," Harvey said, whistling for a cab.

"Lame," Mike declared, as one pulled to a stop. Harvey opened the door and Mike, unthinking, climbed in and slid to the far seat.

"State your argument," Harvey replied, and gave his address to the driver.

"We work twelve hours a day, in pretty high-stress situations. People get to know each other, get to like each other. We definitely all see each other when we aren't at our best. That's the foundation for a solid relationship," Mike said.

"And if you just want sex?"

"They know you, they're going to know what you're after. As long as you're clear about it, and they're on board, they shouldn't have any more problems than you do," Mike argued.

Harvey studied him for what felt like a long time. "Then what happened to you and Rachel?"

Mike felt like he'd been slapped. "That's your business how, exactly?"

"You're my associate. She's useful to you, so she's useful to me. She stops being useful to you, I lose an asset."

"That's very tender and kind of you, Harvey."

Harvey shrugged, relaxed against the worn leather of the cab's seats. The streetlamps, rolling past, sent strips of yellow light up his chest, over his face. After a while, he spoke again. "You didn't answer my question."

"I thought you weren't interested in soap operas."

"Give me the previously-on summary."

Mike laughed despite himself. "Previously on the life of Mike: Rachel kissed me while I was dating Jenny. It became obvious that she's only interested in boys she can't have. I told her that, and she told me to go to hell. Jenny dumped my ass for being a workaholic. Rachel's still pissed at me and I'm single now so I'm not interesting. She still likes you, who knows why, so she helps me out. Cut to opening credits," he finished, as the cab rolled to a stop. Harvey nudged him, so Mike climbed out automatically.

"And you still think work relationships are a good idea?" Harvey asked over the roof of the cab as he paid the driver.

"When you're not dating someone else already, sure," Mike said, adjusting his skates on his shoulder and only then realizing they weren't at his place -- just as the cab pulled away. Another car skimmed past and Mike hurried out of the street, to the curb where Harvey was waiting.

"So you believe a ban on relationships at work is lame," Harvey said.

"Yeah. Hey, I need a -- " Mike started to turn towards the street to flag another cab, but Harvey caught him by the shoulder, turning him back.

"Good," he said, and kissed him.

Mike hadn't been expecting anything even remotely like that, and his hands automatically went to the lapels of Harvey's coat. He was more confused than anything, trying to figure out whether to push him away or pull him in closer, when Harvey let go of his shoulder and leaned back. Mike left his hands where they were, fingers slightly curled.

Harvey just made him argue himself out of not fucking his boss. That was...impressive.

"That was a total dick move, Harvey," he said out loud.

"Tell me it wasn't a little bit clever," Harvey grinned, taking Mike's wrists in his hands and lifting them off his coat. He curled Mike's fingers, bare at the tips in the fingerless knit gloves, around the soft fabric of his scarf, his warm throat underneath it, leather sliding over Mike's knuckles as his own hands held them there. "I'll give you a choice, which is more than you deserve after falling for my bullshit."

Mike pressed his thumbs up under Harvey's jaw, gently. "You're all heart."

"Come upstairs with me and pay in your bet."

"Or?"

"Or you can say you're not into guys, which might be true but I'm pretty sure isn't. Or you can lie about your feelings on workplace relationships. Or you can lie about not being into me. And then you can get a cab, and next week you'll bring me lunch every day."

"Don't go easy on me," Mike drawled.

"Oh, trust me, I won't. Either way."

"Workplace relationships, or workplace sex?"

"You know me. What do you think?"

Mike considered him, hands still tucked between Harvey's leather gloves and soft scarf, thumbs against his jaw. Harvey waited, calm, unmoving, eyes on Mike's.

He did know Harvey, and he knew that Harvey's deal was casual sex: with Dana Scott (intel from Donna), with random women (intel from half the firm), apparently with men (intel from Harvey's tongue in his mouth). But Harvey did have rules. He might have been egging Mike into a trap with that third one, but Mike knew it was probably a policy. A rule that he wouldn't break for a quick fuck. Especially when he could get one of those anywhere.

Harvey would risk his career for an associate who wasn't a Harvard-bred clone. He'd risked it for Mike once already. He wouldn't risk it for a one-night stand.

And who was he kidding? He'd been into Harvey since Harvey looked down at the weed that had spilled out of Mike's briefcase and said, _That's the most interesting resume I've seen all day._

"You're still a dick," Mike announced.

"You've put up with me for this long. You're not a walk in the park either."

"This is sounding less like a relationship and more like mutually assured destruction."

"Oh, I think we passed that around the time you put _Harvard JD_ on your fake resume," Harvey replied.

Mike looked up at Harvey's building, the sheer girder-crossed glass and the impossibly high balconies.

"Lead on, Spirit," he sighed.

"I think that's my line," Harvey said, but he pushed open the door and stepped inside. Mike followed him through the lobby, past the bank of elevators and through a door the desk attendant buzzed open for them. Harvey pulled open a large clear door and gestured Mike through, into an elevator with glass on all sides.

"Where exactly are we going?" Mike asked, nervous. Harvey pushed a button -- the only button on the panel -- and crowded him into a corner.

"Relax. You haven't earned a tour of the dungeons yet," he said, pinning Mike against the glass and kissing him again. His coat was still cold on the surface, but his body was warm and solid, an immovable thing holding Mike gently against the wall, thigh edging between his legs. Mike felt one of Harvey's hands tugging his hat off.

About twenty floors up, Mike guessed, the dark concrete behind him fell away. Light poured up from below, and when he pulled away from Harvey's mouth to turn his head he could see Manhattan lit up below them, cars prowling the streets. Harvey kept kissing him, sucking a dark bruise into his neck while Mike stared awestruck at the view, only a little worried that a layer of glass stood between him and falling. He shifted a little further and his hip rubbed up against Harvey's erection, earning him a muffled _fuck!_ into his jaw.

The view was cut off abruptly as the elevator slid further upwards, and then slowed to a halt _inside_ Harvey's condo. Mike turned back, let Harvey catch his mouth again, slicked his tongue against Harvey's teeth and said, "That is the most awesome thing I've ever done."

"The night is young," Harvey replied sardonically, stepping back to push the door open. He shed gloves and scarf, unbuttoning his coat as he walked into the swankiest living room Mike had ever seen, going to a bar cart in the corner to pour himself a drink. Mike followed carefully, setting his skates by the elevator door and taking in everything -- chrome and leather furniture, subtly placed speakers hooked into a complicated-looking stereo, pale wood floor --

Harvey flicked a switch, and flame burst to life in the fireplace next to his couch. It gave off more light than heat, but weak warmth trickled out and Mike tugged his gloves and scarf off, shoving them in the arm of his leather jacket as he shed it. Harvey turned and something in his eyes, a sort of dark appraisal, made Mike stop.

"I don't think I want to let you forget," Harvey said, strolling forward and settling into a corner of the couch, "that I won the wager. Stay there," he added, as Mike rolled his eyes. He leaned back, still in his coat, legs splayed wide, drink in one hand.

"Is this part of not going easy on me?" Mike asked. Harvey nodded and sipped his drink. "Because my standing here isn't going to make either of us happy."

"Have you ever known me to be without a plan?" Harvey asked, settling the edges of his coat wide. A heartbeat too late, Mike realized what he was planning. "Strip."

"Excuse me?"

"Did I whisper? Strip," Harvey repeated, gesturing with his glass at the soft white thermal shirt Mike was wearing. "And next time, skate faster."

Mike rolled his eyes, but he pulled the thermal over his head, stretching his arms up and letting it fall behind him. Harvey eyed the red plaid flannel button-down underneath, but Mike noticed his gaze drifted to his hands as he started unbuttoning it. He stopped, halfway down, and counted the seconds it took Harvey to notice.

"Problem?" Harvey asked.

"You didn't say strip fast," Mike replied, fiddling with a button. He tucked the thumb of his other hand in his jeans, fingers curling just shy of the bulge of his cock.

Harvey sipped his drink, tongue flicking over his bottom lip to catch a stray drop. "I've got all the time in the world," he said.

"Well, I could still bring you lunches next week instead," Mike replied.

"You want to bargain?" Harvey asked, a hint of incredulousness in his face.

"No. I just want some appreciation for the show." Mike curled his fingers a little more. Harvey's eyes dropped with the motion, and he blinked slowly.

"You're really bad at this," he said, but the hand not holding the drink slid up his thigh, settling low on his stomach. "You'll get some appreciation when I see something worth appreciating."

And that was what Mike loved about the work they did, the way they interacted -- it was always about egging each other on, subtle competition, pushing back and forth, challenging one another. He let Harvey have the moment, went back to unbuttoning his shirt and shrugged it off. It felt good, actually; between the fireplace and Harvey's gaze, he was warmer than he'd like.

He untucked the back of his old, battered long-sleeved shirt, then slid his hand down under the waistband of his jeans to untuck the front, fingers drifting over his dick under his briefs as he pulled it up. He tipped his head back, hips jerking involuntarily, and saw Harvey move -- saw his thumb flick open the button of his fly, palm coming to rest over the swell of his dick. Casually, he took another sip of his drink.

Instead of pulling off his shirt, Mike turned around and stretched, shoulders angling, and then bent over to unlace his boots. The jeans were lined, and thus too thick to really hug any curves, but once Mike had his boots and socks off and had turned back, he saw a faint flush creeping up Harvey's cheeks that had nothing to do with the fact that he was still in his coat. Mike edged the shirt up, palm flat on his abs, and then pulled the henley and his undershirt off together, letting them fall to the side. When he ran his hands back down his chest to his hips, fingers edging up against the fleece under his jeans, Harvey's hips jerked against the hand he still had resting over his fly, against his dick.

"I knew you liked winter clothes," Mike said, grinning, not moving his hands.

"I like them better on the floor," Harvey growled. It sent a heady rush through Mike, that particular tone. Probably best that he rarely got to hear it at work. "Come here."

Mike moved forward as Harvey stretched out an arm to rest the nearly-empty glass on the side-table next to the couch. Then he turned just a little, reaching up to tuck his own fingers in next to Mike's.

A gentle tug, and Mike pushed his jeans and briefs off together, letting Harvey grip his waist and pull him down to straddle his lap.

There was something obscene about it, kneeling over Harvey while they kissed, naked and warm with Harvey still fully dressed. The wool edges of the coat brushed softly against the outsides of his legs, and the blunt rub of his fly against Mike's dick was just the near side of painful. Mike hissed into Harvey's mouth, pressing forward.

"That's it," Harvey said, as Mike rutted against him, burrowing into the warmth of the coat, the warmth of Harvey. "You want to mess me up, Mike? Want to come just like this?"

Mike whined and felt Harvey's arm slide down to the small of his back, settling them snug so that every time Mike pushed in, the arch of Harvey's hips pushed Mike back. The soft nap of his trousers felt amazing, dragging at his skin just a little, just enough to tease, not quite enough to get him what he wanted.

"You did great," Harvey said in his ear, and Mike's whole body tensed, tightened in anticipation. "You were so good, Mike -- "

It pushed him over the edge faster than he was expecting, and Mike moaned deep as he came, let Harvey take his weight and pet him through it, kissing him while he shuddered.

"Good," Harvey repeated as Mike settled against him, loose and relaxed in the afterglow. They stayed that way for a while, Mike catching his breath, Harvey apparently unheeding of the mess Mike had made of his suit.

"You aren't done," Harvey said, when Mike nuzzled at his neck, mouth sliding along the skin there. Mike sat back, reactions thick and slow. "Now you strip _me._ "

He leaned forward to shrug out of his coat, pushing it to one side. Eagerly, a little clumsily, Mike undid the button at Harvey's throat, nipping his jaw when Harvey tilted his chin up, then got two more undone before he pulled it over his head, careful of the sodden mess near the bottom. That went on the floor too, and Mike wondered if Harvey secretly liked desecrating shirts, because the Harvey he went to work with every day would have flattened him for even thinking about doing...what they'd just done.

He slid back off Harvey's lap, dropping carefully to the slightly cold floor, and pulled at Harvey's pants, tugging them down, disposing of pants, shoes, and socks in one fumbling gesture. Harvey, still lazily slouched in the leather, looked down at him with a smug, expectant expression.

Mike leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Harvey's stomach, feeling the muscles there tense under the skin. He tugged his boxers down, let Harvey hitch his hips to get them off, and then looked up, wetting his lips. Harvey's pupils were huge, eyes dark and careful, almost soft. Like Mike was valuable to him, even if he was kneeling at his feet, leaning forward to run his hands up his thighs to pin his hips, sucking his cock slowly into his mouth.

He was still dazed from the orgasm, really from the entire night, and he sucked slow at first, gentle, cataloging Harvey's reactions, how he grunted and swore when Mike worked his tongue against the underside of his cock, the soft hiss when Mike angled his head a little more. He felt a warm hand cup his cheek, thumb pressing in a little to feel his dick in Mike's mouth. Fingers stroked through his hair, a caress rather than a command. Harvey's hips rolled easily, shallow but quick, and then the hand cupping his cheek pushed him. Harvey gasped out, "Mike, you should -- Jesus, your mouth -- "

Mike grasped his hand, pinned it against his face and ignored the warning, ignored the push. He closed his eyes to listen to Harvey come, a short line of _uh, uh, God --_ before he had to breathe through his nose, had to swallow quickly.

Harvey toppled back against the couch, head tipped against the edge, chest heaving. Mike crawled up into his lap again, kissing his throat and the underside of his chin. Harvey's hands drifted over his skin almost restlessly.

"Hey," Mike said after a while, when Harvey showed no inclination to move and the room was starting to feel distinctly chilly.

"Mm?" Harvey asked, a thick, lazy noise.

"Are you cold?" Mike asked. "My ass is freezing."

Harvey laughed and pushed weakly at him, levering himself up off the couch when Mike stood.

"Bed's through there," he said, waving at an open doorway. "Electric blanket should be on."

"Oh, God," Mike said, just thinking about it. He turned and Harvey caught him around the waist from behind, pulling him back for a moment, nuzzling into his neck.

"Your ass _is_ cold," he said, and gave him a push towards the doorway. Mike stumbled in and pulled back the thick duvet, the electric blanket and the flannel sheet, crawling into the glorious warmth, burying his face in a pillow.

After a moment he saw the firelight in the living room flicker out; another moment and Harvey was climbing in after him, groaning with pleasure. Mike made only enough room to allow him in before huddling up against him, fingers spread over the damp skin of his chest.

"God bless us every one," he said into Harvey's shoulder.

"Humbug," Harvey murmured, but he didn't push Mike away.

Relaxed, wrapped in warmth and with Harvey's hand working gentle circles in his scalp, Mike fell asleep.


End file.
